we're all making our own sense of things
Mostly google seeks mundane things of this blog. How to make green iceblocks; where to find a home economics book on being a good wife; what’s it like to be a doctor’s wife (it’s a joke google, one with less political currency than it once had, I will admit, but a joke nonetheless); how to make nuts and bolts from nutri grain.
But every now and then it asks something that makes my heart skip a beat.
38 too old to have a child
regret having a child
I hope you find the answers. Whoever you are.
I’m pretty sure that of all the ladies in the beauty salon, I am the only one whose knickers situation is so dire that she is wearing her husband’s undies.
If the link isn’t working for you and you want to try typing it in, the address of the festival blog is
http://festivalblogger2.bigblog.com.au/index.do
It’s fun, though I wish I’d known about it a bit further in advance, and I would’ve done a bit of research so that I could do a bit more planning. Still, it’s good practice, this writing on the run stuff.
It’s fucking hot in this garrett. It’s still over 35 degrees. And it will be for the next week apparently.
If you need me, I’m on the phone. Catching up on all manner of administrivia that has banked up over the last couple of weeks.
I went in this competition (you just apply for everything you see, don’t you, said my friend) and now I’m one of three official Festival bloggers. You can see my entries over here if you’re interested. I think that might be the extent of my blogging for now.
In other news, things are up and down and up and down and up again. On the up, the head lice seem to be under control. We’ve been through a lot of conditioner. Tea tree oil has been recommended by a great many people (including river, see below).
If you need me, I’m just here. In my air conditioned house. I know. Not environmentally sound. But we haven’t used it this year. And it really is hot.
There’s nothing says rock n roll lifestyle quite like head lice.
Those suckers are tenacious. Though, apparently, and kind of luckily for me, a little fussy about just whose blood they suck.
Remember this?
You don’t?
You mean you’re not committing the details of my life to memory so that you’ve got all the backstory in case you’re asked to come in one day when one of the other writers is sick*?
Well, whether you remember it or not, I’m going to tell you that last night, I plugged it in using the replacement charger which was a little flimsy, and there was an enormous BANG followed by a swear word or two, a jump off the couch by the mister, a silence as all of the electrical appliances in the house went off, and a thank you to the universe for the invention of circuit breakers. Now, the powerpoint is looking quite black. The mister says it’s fine, but I’m calling an electrician in before I use it again.
I love that phone, I really do. But it’s not been working so great lately. And I can’t justify spending the enormous amounts of money required to replace the phone. Plus, like, I find having it switched on enormously stressful. Like I’d better answer it. And now. So I think it’s back to whatever it is they’ll give me with the cheapest plan I can find.
Oh, for independent wealth.
*I always hoped that one day I’d be asked to fill in for a writer on Home and Away or EastEnders or anything really, and that when I did I’d wow them with my intricate knowledge of those programmes. And they say that people don’t value a free university education. I’d still do it. Just in case you’re some television executive looking to take a risk on an ageing, but potentially excellent television writer.
On the weekend, I:
So, you know, the usual gamut of emotions.
Next year.
Next year will be filled with more middle ground.
Oh, and yes, there was a car race. Not my can of bourbon, but plenty of people loved it.
‘…well, I’d better get home and start work’.
‘But I heard you’re a comedian…aren’t you a comedian…your boy told my girl that you’re a comedian’.
Three things:
1. Not sure that a few five minute spots here and there defines me as a comedian.
2. Writing jokes is hard work. No, really. It is.
3. Do kids not say the darndest things?
Tomorrow night, I will be making my Adelaide Fringe Festival debut. This is not something I ever expected to so, but there you go.
I am part of the Titters! show on Wednesday and Thursday. It is a great show, with a bunch of excellent women comics who have been extremely welcoming. They have a lot more experience than me, and last year, they won a People’s Choice award.
I’ve got most of next week off, and then in the next week, I’ll be back in Titters as well as part of the High Beam comedy hour. In the last week of the Fringe, I’ll be part of Titters again.
And to top it off, I’ll be part of the upstART program with the Fringe. Which is, you know, as you can see, emerging artists. So, I could make some quip here about emerging at age 39, but that would be a bit obvious, wouldn’t it?
I had no idea I would be doing these things. They’ve crept up on me one by one. Until suddenly, I feel like I’m a different person. It’s exciting. Overwhelming sometimes, but exciting. And it makes my heart beat fast and my hands sweat just thinking about it.
But it’ll be ace. Really.
On the weekend, we went and watched the mister jump out of a plane.
He was skydiving.
We look much more adventurous than we really are.
If you need me, I’m down in the back yard. Rehearsing.
Every now and then, I write a really good sentence. One that is so balanced and so well-tuned, that I know I will never give it up. Sometimes, such sentences come out of the blue, but very often, they come after days or weeks of knowing the line is there, but not quite putting it down. These moments of resolution are fine moments indeed. The problem is, that I then spend the next three hours so caught up in admiring the sentence what I have wrote, that it becomes the only thing I do all day.